University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


CRITICAL  DIALOGUE 


BETWEEN 


ABOO  AW  CAB 


A. 


ON 


BOOK 


OR  A 


EDITED  BY 
DBS  .     0-  TJ  2M  I  TJ  & 


MINGO  CITY 
GREAT  PUBLISHING  HOUSE 

OF 

SAM  SLICK  ALLSPICE 

13 VERACITY  STREET, 13 

1880. 


CRITICAL  DIALOGUE 


BETWEEN 


ABOO  AND  OABOO 


ON 


BOOK 


OR 


EDITED  BY 


MINGO  CITY 
GREAT  PUBLISHING  HOUSE 


OP 


SAM  SLICK  ALLSPICE 

VERACITY  STREET, 

1880. 


1880. 


PREFACE  OF  THE  EDITOR. 


The  "  Critical  Dialogue  between  Aboo  and  Caboo  on 
a  New  Book,  "  which  I  have  just  published,  and  now  ush- 
er into  the  literary  world,  was  discovered,  at  West-End, 
in  manuscript,  lying  on  the  knotted  root  of  an  old, 
reclining  willow-tree.  It  probably  had  been  lost  by 
some  musing  rambler,  whose  steps  had  wandered  along 
the  sandy  and  shelly  shore  of  the  Lake  Pontchartrain, 
bordered  with  rustling  reeds  and  rushes. 

The  lost  manuscript,  when  found,  was  carefully  wrapped 
up  in  a  blue,  silk  handkerchief.  The  discoverer,  after 
having  opened  and  perused  it,  was  astonished  at  not 
seeing,  below  the  last  line,  the  signature  of  the  author. 

At  first,  he  knew  not  what  to  do  with  it  and  was 
tempted  to  destroy  it.  But,  having  read  it  over  again, 
he  was  more  deeply  impressed,  and,  searchingly,  wond- 
ered who  could  have  written  it.  He  thought  that  it 
must  be  a  representative  Creole,  a  Franco-American, 
a  vigorous  offspring  of  the  latin  race.  The  more  he 
pondered,  the  more  he  felt  puzzled. 

I  happened,  myself,  to  be  that  very  day  an  idler  also, 
in  the  environs  of  West-End,  and  met  with  the  above 
mentioned  loiterer,  who  spoke  to  me  of  his  discovery. 
He  then  read  the  mysterious  manuscript,  and  read  it 
with  such  an  oratorical  stress,  that  the  startled  echoes 


676266 


responded  from  the  sombre  depth  of  the  neighboring 
swamp. 

I  at  once  proposed  to  publish  it  and  assume  upon  my- 
self the  whole  responsibility.  He  fain  complied  with  my 
request  and  proposition.  Thus  has  it  been  rescued  from 
probable  destruction  by  him,  and  brought  to  light  by  me, 
with  the  hope  that  it  will  be  welcomed  by  the  intelligent, 
candid  and  unbiased  Headers,  who  are  more  fond  of 
simple  truth  than  of  complicated  and  tortuous  errors, 
painfully  wrought  into  whimsical  and  derisive  stories  — 
more  or  less  dramatized  to  impressionnate  literary  cox- 
combs and  blue-stockings. 

The  subject  of  this  "  Critical  Dialogue,  "  is  the  last 
work  of  the  Dignissime  George  William  Cable, — "  The 
Grandissimes,'? — which  work  is  but  a  sequel  of  the  "  Old 
Creole  Days.''  They  were  given  as  novels  and  they  have 
been  taken  for  HISTORY.  The  most  historical  and  honor- 
able Creole  families  are  therein  pasquinaded. 

Both  works,  in  their  tone  and  wording,  remind  us  of 
Moliere's  "  Precieuses  Ridicules."  They  are  written  in 
the  spiteful  mood  and  style,  in  which  would  write  an 
old,  prudish  maid,  chatting  about  her  younger  and  more 
beautiful  rivals  ;  or,  rather,  in  the  pedantic  phraseology 
of  a  sunday  school-master,  who  pedagogues  before  a 
ravished  audience  of  gaping  girls  and  boys. 

But,  if  this  be  the  style  of  these  two  books,  what, 
then,  is  the  spirit  which  informs  and  makes  them  so  en 
vogue.?  The  bold  and  impertinent  spirit  is  that  of  a 
scoffer,  a  banterer,  a  ridiculer. 

Now,  since  the  ridiculer  knows  so  well  how  to  evade 


—  5  — 

the  penalties  of  the  Laws,  how  is  he  to  be  met  and 
punished  ?  "  A  ridiculer  is  the  best  champion  to  meet 
another  ridiculer.  He  must  turn  on  him  his  own  weapons, 
and  pay  him  in  his  own  coin.'7 

This  has  been  done  by  the  unknown  author  of  the 
manuscri})t  discovered  at  West-End,  lying  on  the  desert 
shore,  where  it  might  have  been  reached  by  the  waves 
and  washed  away,  like  a  floating  reed  or  rush,  never  to 
be  seen  again  by  any  strolling  poet  or  philosopher. 

Bantering  is  the  prostitution  of  genius,  literature  and 
art ;  it  is  a  loathsome  plague.  Banterers  are  lazars  that 
should  be  banished  from  all  social  intercourse. 

"  Writers  of  this  class  alienate  themselves  from  human 
kind,  they  break  the  golden  bond  which  holds  them  to 
society  ;  and  live  among  us  like  a  polished  banditti.  A 
bad  book  never  sells  unless  it  be  addressed  to  the 
passions  ;  the  severest  criticism  will  never  impede  its 
circulation,  —  malignity  and  curiosity  being  passions 
stronger  and  less  delicate  than  taste  and  truth." 

And  yet  some  one  must  have  the  courage  to  unmask 
and  denounce  the  "polished  banditti" 

There  was  in  Louisiana,  long  ago,  a  Choctaw  Chief 
on  whom  had  been  inflicted  the  disgraceful  name  of 
Mingolabee,  le  Chef-Menteur,  the  Great- Liar. 

The  mendacious  Choctaw  Chieftain  was  relegated, 
—  near  the  mouth  of  the  Bayou  Sauvage, —  by  the  gray- 
haired  Sachems  of  his  Tribe,  so  great  was  their  love  for 
truth,  in  its  virgin  purity. 

Have  we  not,  just  now,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  good 
and  beautiful  City  of  New  Orleans,  a  Magnissime 
Mingolabee-Romanticist  ?  —  We  have. 


_  6  - 

This  Precieux  Monsieur  Delicieux,  this  Mingolabee 
Tasimbo,  this  deplorably  untruthful  Novelist,  has  af- 
flicted us  with  a  new  brood  of  gravely-comical  Grandis- 
simes,  Belles  Dames  and  Belles  Demoiselles  Delicieuse- 
ment  Precieuses  Ridicules,  whose  unmista-^a?>/e  features 
betray  their  vulgar,  jocose,  —  and  I  may  say, — outland- 
ish ancestry. 


CRITICAL    DIALOGUE 

BETWEEN   ABOO   and  CABOO 

ON  A  NEW  BOOK 

OK 

A  GRANDISSIMB  ASCENSION. 


(  Agricola  Fusilier,  who  died  many  years  ago,  was  permitted,  it 
appears,  after  having  resumed  his  life-like  frame,  to  come  out  of 
the  realm  of  Shades,  and  to  walk  again  on  earth,  and  feel,  and 
speak,  as  once  he  had  done.  Disguising  himself,  he  took  the  name 
of  Aboo.  Being  a  Spirit,  he  instantly  saw  all  the  sad  changes  his 
native  State,  his  dear  Louisiana,  had  undergone  ;  he  saw  the  thistle 
growing  where  whilom  grew  the  cane  ;  he  saw  the  once  blooming 
gardens  overrun  with  thorny  briers  ;  he  saw  the  spiders  spinning 
their  webs  in  the  deserted  mansions  of  pristine  luxury  ;  and,  amidst 
all  this  desolation,  all  these  ruins,  he  seemed  like  the  meditative 
and  woeful  Genius  of  all  the  vanished  splendors  of  a  lordly  aristo- 
cracy. He  wept  bitterly,  and  wept  long.  His  lamentations  attracted 
the  attention  and  excited  the  sympathy  of  one  who  was  n  surviving 
member  of  his  family.  Deeply  moved  and  touched,  this  man,  — 
slowly  and  hesitatingly,  —  approached  the  weeping  ghost  and  was 
intuitively  recognized  and  greeted  by  him.  His  name  was  Caboo. 
Seated,  side  by  side,  beneath  the  gloomy  shade  of  a  moss-clad  cy- 
press bending  over  the  rippling  waves  of  the  lake  Pontchartrain, 
not  far  from  West-End,  they  unbosomed  themselves  in  a  long  and 
animated  conversation.  This  conversation  was  couched  down  on 
paper,  in  readable  writing,  by  a  stenographer,  or  reporter,  perhaps 
of  one  of  the  New  Orleans  journals,  who  chanced  to  be,  just  then, 
at  no  great  distance  from  them,  and  who  overheard  what  they  had 
said.  The  dialogue  is  now  given,  in  all  its  uncouth  vehemence,  as 
it  was  mis  au  net  by  the  unknown  stenographer,  who  had  put  to  it 
as  a  preliminary  the  above  explanation.  He  had  inadvertantly  let 
it  drop  or  forgotten  it  on  the  root  where  it  was  found,  as  related  in 
the  Editor's  Preface.  ) 


CRITICAL   DIALOGUE 

BETWEEN 

A.1STD 


CABOO.—  Excuse  me,  Sir  ;  I  hope  that  I  am  not  an  in- 
truder ;  I  have  heard  your  moans  and  sobs  :  Are  you  ill  ? 
Can  I,  in  any  way,  comfort  or  aid  you  ? 

ABOO. — I  am  not  ill,  but  I  am  indignant  and  sorrowful. 
My  name  is  Aboo. 

CABOO. —  And  my  name  is  Caboo. 

ABOO. —  I  know  you  ;  we  are  related  ;  we  are  of  the  same 
family. 

CABOO. —  It  seemed  to  me  that  a  voice  had  spoken  within 
my  bosom  ;  my  heart  thrilled  with  emotion. 

ABOO. —  Come  near,  kinsman;  seat  thyself,  here,  on  this 
fallen  tree  ;  I  wish  to  unload  my  sonl  of  its  burden  of  almost 

unspeakable  sadness Verily,  verily,  this  Age  is  an  Age  of 

balloon-ascensions,  in  the  literary,  as  well  as  in  the  political, 
world  ;  and  no  hemp  nor  iron  cable  could  keep  down  this 
irresistible  tendency  to  aerial  loftiness  of  aspiration.  Each 
age  is  characterized  by  its  peculiar  idiot  -  syncrasy 

CABOO. —  I  see  not  what  you  are  driving  at.  I  am  a  practi- 
cal man.  Do  not  speak  en  1'air,  —  as  say  the  French,  —  un- 
practiced  theorician. 

ABOO. —  Please,  tell  me,  what  is  practice  but  the  application 
of  theory  ?  Is  not  the  practical  man  the  workman  of  the 
metaphysician  ?  Is  not  speech,  is  not  action  the  embodi- 
ment of  thought  ?  Is  not  art  the  sensible,  the  perceptible, 
the  real  manifestation  of  the  ideal,  —  in  eloquent  language, 
musical  sounds,  harmonized  colors,  in  all  beautiful  figures 
and  forms, — that  the  artist  may  elevate,  ennoble,  and  thereby 
benefit  man  and  societv  ? 


CABOO. —  Come  to  the  point.  Substantiate  your  windy 
bubble.  Give  a  "  local  habitation  "  to  your  "  airy  nothing." 

ABOO. —  Be  patient,  and  heed  my  words  :  Some  act,  with- 
out thinking  ;  some  think,  without  acting  ;  and  some  think, 
and  act  accordingly  :  Among  whom  of  these  shall  I  rank 
you,  without  being  guilty  of  a  practical-joke  ? 

CABOO. —  You  mean  a  capital  joke,  for  capital  is  derived 
from,  caput,  and  theoricians  are  headmost  in  cogitation  and 
FKEETHINKING  too  !  They  dream  of  impracti  -  cable  perfection. 

ABOO. —  That  may  be,  subordinate  practitioner;  but,  just 
now,  listen  to  the  words  of  the  master  theorician. 

CABOO. —  Go  on,  master  theorician,  —  but  to  the  point. 

ABOO. —  Please  do  not,  by  frequent  interruptions,  confuse 
my  thoughts  and  prevent  my .... 

CABOO. —  Your  elaborate  rounding  of  periods,  eh  ? 

ABOO. —  Bounding,  or  broken,  peuimporle;  only  hearken 
well  to  what  I  have  to  say. 

CABOO. — But  do  not,  I  beg  you,  doom  me  to  endure  a  long 
and  tedious  lesson  of  unintelligible  Esthetics  :  What  is 
imaginative  is  not  practical. 

ABOO. —  Prithee,  —  for  a  little  while,  —  bear  with  me  ;  I 
come  to  the  point :  What  is  not  true,  not  good,  cannot  be 
beautiful.  By  chance,  somewhere,  the  other  day,  fell,  un- 
happily, into  my  hands  a  book  grandly  entitled  "  The  Grand- 
issimes,"  but  whose  fit  title  should  have  been  "  The  Fictions 
of  Ridicule;  "  which  book  is  neither  historical  nor  romantic, 
in  any  true  sense  of  what  we  term  history  or  romance.  It 
has  been,  evidently,  most  submissively,  written  FOR  the  preju- 
diced and  inimical  North,  against  the  olden  customs,  habits, 
manners  and  idiosyncrasies  of  the  Southern  Creole  population 
of  Louisiana,  therein  so  slanderously  misrepresented ;  and 
yet,  in  reality,  so  high-spirited,  so  genteel  and  captivating, 
in  its  polished  civility,  noble  bearing  and  dignified  character, 


—  10  — 

although  the  rude  storin  of  misfortune  has  swept  over  its 
once  so  opulent  and  princely  homes. 

CABOO.  —  I  wonder  not  at  this  :  I  have  read  "  The  Grand- 
issimes,"  that  sensational  catchpenny  by  which  the  Northern 
readers  have  been  gulled  into  foolish  admiration.  It  is  not  the 
only  swindling  publication  of  that  series,  nor  shall  it  be  the 
last  :  It's  indeed  a  novel  sort  of  history  ! 

ABOO.  — The  Grandissime  Imaginer  of  this  non-historical, 
non-romantic,  half-comical,  half-dramatic,  or  rather  melo- 
dramatic, —  and  wondrously  artistic,  —  elucubration,  is,  we 
have  been  told,  a  native  of  Louisiana ;  he  is,  besides,  a  pert, 
waggish,  flippant,  somewhat  bold  upstart,  brazen-faced  wit- 
ling, who  supplies  the  Northern  literary  market  with  that 
sort  of  adulterated,  but  gratifying,  stuff  :  How  disloyal,  how 
basely  unfilial,  how  despi-ca6/e/  But  it  recks  him  not;  for 
he  is  the  bearer  of  a  tsilisrnauic  firman,  —  insuring  fame  and 
fortune,  —  with  the  great  seal  of  the  Grandissime,  Mandarin, 
Waucanous,  Charlemagne  Scribner,  impressed  upon  it.  Who 
would  dare  criticise  and  denounce  what  has  been  written  by 
the  white-gloved  hand  of  this  impec  -  cable  Exquisite,  who  has 
decked  his  head  with  a  jet-black  plume,  fallen  from  the  tail  of 
a  crow,  —  which  remarkable  circumstance  warns  us  to  distrust 
this  Grandissime  TELL-TALE.  He  cants  like  a  censorious, 
sanctimonious,  grandiloquent  expounder  of  the  ism  -  mythic 
doctrines,  which  the  heated  brain  of  any  domestic,  social  or 
political  self -constituted  Reformist,  may  dream  of,  and  ex- 
patiate on,  in  prosaic  verse  or  poetical  prose,  —  ad  libitum, 
et  in  outer  num. 

CABOO. —  I  am  not  astonished  at  the  Northern  popularity 
of  this  petted  vender  of  sublimated  calumnies  and  graphically 
dramatized  stories, —  contes  hlens,  conies  noirs, —  a  dorrnir 
debout. 

ABOO. —  The  new-born,  ludicroijs  thing  of  fiction, — conic- 


— 11  — 

en  Fair,  —  swollen  into  a  marketable  bulk,  —  is  written  in  a 
foppishly  quaint,  and  yet  studied,  style  ;  it  is  written  with  a 
malignant  spirit,  which  may  be  called  Cablish,  that  is  to  say 
Devilish,  so  mischievously  altered  and  confused  are  dates, 
events,  places,  things,  names  and  persons  ;  and  all  this  to 
the  sole  intent,  the  wicked  purpose  of  slur,  travesty  and 
ridicule  —  leeringly  —  sneeringly  —  jeeringly.  Undoubtedly, 
he  got  his  historical  information  from  the  babbling  lips  of 
some  old  negresses.  reeling  on  the  brink  of  Eternity. 

CABOO. —  It  is  the  finical  refinement  of  disguised  puritan- 
ism,  assuming  the  fanatical  mission  of  radical  reform  and 
universal  enlightment, —  utopian  dream  of  a  madly  infatuated 
philanthropist.  He  is,  just  now,  in  high  feather  and  prime 
flush  of  unexpected  success  :  G'est  la  lune  de  miel  des  reclames 
K/ctravag  antes. 

ABOO. —  This  Cablishissime  romanticist,  this  ill-natured 
alien,  this  polyglot  wight,  who  safely  bore  and  in  due  time 
brought  forth  this  now  so  much  admired,  fondled  and  in- 
dulged progeniture,  has  an  evil  eye  to  detect  and  seize  upon 
whatever  seems  to  him  burlesque,  ridiculous  or  odious  ;  and 
he  so  excels  in  exaggerating  what  he  sees  or  seems  to  see, 
that  we  have  distorted  images  of  fancy-wrought  caricatures,  in- 
stead of  life-like  pictures,  fair  resemblances  of  natural  realities. 

CABOO. —  That's  what  I  call  a  crafty  gullcatcher  ;  a  sleek, 
shrewed  pedler  of  novelties ;  a  Sam  Slick  of  magazine 
literature. 

ABOO.—  And  yet,  every  one  is  aware  that  the  ' '  Ridiculer's 
business  is  not  at  all  with  truth,"  but  with  shadows  of  truth, 
false  appearances,  fictitious  characters,  imaginary  personages, 
fantastic  visions,  in  all  the  wild  mirth  of  teemful  malice, 
and  the  flaunting  exuberance  or  lightning- volubility  of  lan- 
guage,—  "frenzied  mob  of  reeling  words,"  striving,  fighting 
to  hide  the  charming  face  of  truth. 


-12  — 

CABOO. —  Had  we  but  the  hissing,  whistling,  howling 
drunken  "mob"  of  tortured  English  words,  it  might  b 
tolerable  ;  but  we  have  also  the  worst  patois  that  ever  gratei 
the  human  ear,  in  savage  discord  of  sounds.  Never  befor 
were  verbs,  nouns  and  adjectives  so  nmltitudiuously  disallied 
tied  together,  whipped  into  forced  union.  Call  not  thi 
"orderly  disorder,"  artistic  disheveling,  wildness  in  perfec 
tion.  It's  the  tumultuous  stampede  of  a  startled  drove  o 
words  toppling,  pell-mell,  in  wild  and  frightful  confusion. 

ABOO. —  in  his  protean,  metamorphosic  versatility,  hs  ( 
mean  the  AUTHOR,  mind  you, )  he  is  now  like  the  gaudy 
fluttering  butterfly,  then  like  the  gem-hued,  dazzling  hum 
ming-bird,  ( but  the  butterfly  is  born  of  a  creeping  worm  an< 
the  humming-bird  is  a  nasty  little  despoiler  of  flowers ) ;  li< 
reminds  us  of  the  chatty  magpie,  the  cold,  sheeny  serpent 
the  slime-imbedded  alligator,  shedding  pitiful  tears;  "as 
suming  all  forms,  he  has  none  ; "  he  is  every  thing,  am 
nothing,  by  rapid  turns  of  mood  and  shape  :  Indeed,  Vou 
douism  must  have  lent  its  powerful  gris-gris.  There  is  ii 
it  all  something  cabalistic,  cablish,  qui  accable ;  something 
suffocating,  strangling,  incubus-like  ;  Bras-Coupe  has  sun£ 
his  weird  incantations  ;  all  the  ebon-faced  Sprites  are  le 
loose  ;  and  from  their  gloomy  holes  issuing,  come  multitude; 
of  bats,  owls,  snakes,  pole-cats :  Pandemonium  is  not  faj 
hence  ! 

CABOO.  — If  it's  not  Pandemonium,  it's  something  like 
it, —  the  vestibule  of  hell !  An  offensive,  poisonous  stencl 
seizes  our  nostrils ....  Oh  !  for  a  bottle  of  Cologne-water  !— 
Half  of  my  life  for  a  bottle  of  eau  de  Cologne  ! 

ABOO. —  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  see,  —  erelong, — 
this  great  wizard  of  romanticism,  by  a  sudden  touch  of  his 
magic  wand,  unveil  to  us  the  beau  ideal  of  Creole  life  and 
lowland  scenery,  animated  by  the  all-imitating  music  of  the 


—  13  — 

unrivaled  chanter, —  hid  in  the  orange  groves  and  flowery 
boskets,  which  adorn  our  dear  Louisiana, —  so  wildly  beautiful 
and  so  beautifully  wild  !  After  the  sable,  tinsel-robed  harlot, 
we  will  have  the  lily- like  daughter  of  light,  blushing  in  all 
the  smiling  grace  of  youth,  or  all  the  sweet  gravity  of  pensive 
age. 

CABOO. —  And  that  would  be  another  catchpenny  of  this 
Grandissime  Gullcatcher,  and  a  most  relishable  food  for  the 
languishing  poetesses  and  sighing  maidens  of  the  snowy 
cliines,  who  dream  of  paradise  in  the  Sunny  South....  O 
sickly-wan  beauties,  ye  need  the  flame  of  our  glowing  sky  ! 

ABOO. —  After  having  followed  awhile  the  zigzag  flight  of 
his  fitful,  and  oft  raving,  imagination,  we  dream  that  we  dream 
that  we  are  dreaming. 

CABOO.  —  He  must  be  an  opium-eater,  or  an  entranced 
medium  whose  mind  roams  in  Dream-Land. 

ABOO. —  Even  when  and  while  he  pleases  and  charms,  he 
knows  how  to  beswear  and  spoil  the  fairest  objects,  over 
which  he  throws  a  sort  of  weird  tinge, —  strangely  weird 
indeed, —  but  somehow  made  altogether  unseemly  by  a  skillful 
play  of  dubious  light  or  a  foul  daubing  of  the  brush.  He 
fastens,  in  a  fiendish  mood  of  wanton  waggery,  some  grotesque 
unreality  upon  what  is  real  comeliness,  poetic  beauty,  resist- 
less witchery  of  artless  nature. 

CABOO. —  And  with  what  unspeakable  relish  he  thus  sullies 
what  is  most  immaculate,  most  bloomingly  attractive  and 
sweetly  bewitching. 

ABOO. —  There  is,  (mind  well,  I  allude  to  the  author,  and 
not  to  the  man),  in  this  prolific  and  evil-eyed  Caricaturist, — 
strikingly  harmonized, —  something  of  the  wasp,  the  cater- 
pillar and  Darwin's  typical  ape,  transformed  into  a  polichinel 
puppet ;  he  stings  while  flying,  befouls  as  he  crawls,  and 
plays  wonderful  freaks,  plumes  himself,  pranks  up,  and 


—  12  — 

CABOO. —  Had  we    but    the    hissing,   whistling,    howling, 
drunken  "mob"  of   tortured   English   words,  it   might  be  I 
tolerable  ;  but  we  have  also  the  worst  patois  that  ever  grated 
the  human  ear,  in  savage  discord  of  sounds.     Never  before  j 
were  verbs,  nouns  and  adjectives  so  mnltitudiuously  disallied, 
tied  together,    whipped  into   forced    union.     Call   not   this 
"orderly  disorder,"  artistic  disheveling,  wildness  in  perfec- 
tion.    It's  the  tumultuous  stampede  of  a  startled  drove  of 
words  toppling,  pell-mell,  in  wild  and  frightful  confusion. 

ABOO. —  in  his  protean,  metamorphosic  versatility,  Ii9  (I 
mean  the  AUTHOE,  mind  you, )  he  is  now  like  the  gaudy, 
fluttering  butterfly,  then  like  the  gem-hued,  dazzling  hum- 
ming-bird, ( but  the  butterfly  is  born  of  a  creeping  worm  and 
the  humming-bird  is  a  nasty  little  despoiler  of  flowers ) ;  he 
reminds  us  of  the  chatty  magpie,  the  cold,  sheeny  serpent, 
the  slime-imbedded  alligator,  shedding  pitiful  tears  ;  "as- 
suming all  forms,  he  has  none  ; "  he  is  every  thing,  and 
nothing,  by  rapid  turns  of  mood  and  shape  :  Indeed,  Vou- 
douism  must  have  lent  its  powerful  gris-gris.  There  is  in 
it  all  something  cabalistic,  cablish,  qui  accable ;  something 
suffocating,  strangling,  incubus-like ;  Bras-Coupe  has  sung 
his  weird  incantations  ;  all  the  ebon-faced  Sprites  are  let 
loose  ;  and  from  their  gloomy  holes  issuing,  come  multitudes 
of  bats,  owls,  snakes,  pole-cats :  Pandemonium  is  not  far 
hence  ! 

CABOO.  — If  it's  not  Pandemonium,  it's  something  like 
it, —  the  vestibule  of  hell !  An  offensive,  poisonous  stench 
seizes  our  nostrils ....  Oh  !  for  a  bottle  of  Cologne-water  ! — 
Half  of  my  life  for  a  bottle  of  eau  de  Cologne  ! 

ABOO. —  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  see,  —  erelong, — 
this  great  wizard  of  romanticism,  by  a  sudden  touch  of  his 
magic  wand,  unveil  to  us  the  beau  ideal  of  Creole  life  and 
lowland  scenery,  animated  by  the  all-imitating  music  of  the 


unrivaled  chanter,- hid  in  the  orange  groves  and  flowery 
boskets,  which  adorn  our  dear  Louisiana,-  so  wildly  beautif 
and  so  beautifully  wild  !  After  the  sable,  tinsel-robed  harlot, 
we  will  have  the  lily-like  daughter  of  light,  blushing  m  all 
the  smiling  grace  of  youth,  or  all  the  sweet  gravity  of  pei 

agCABOO-And  that  would  be  another  catchpenny  of  this 
Grandissime  Gullcatcher,  and  a  most  relishable  food  for  t 
languishing  poetesses   and   sighing   maidens   of   the   snowy 
climes,  who  dream  of  paradise  in  the  Sunny  South  ...   ( 
sickly-wan  beauties,  ye  need  the  flame  of  our  glowing  sky  ! 
ABOO  -After  having  followed  awhile  the  zigzag  flight  < 
his  fitful,  and  oft  raving,  imagination,  we  dream  that  u 
that  we  are  dreaming. 

CABOO.-He  must   be  an   opium-eater,   or  an   entrance 
medium  whose  mind  roams  in  Dream-Land. 

ABOO  -Even  when  and  while  he  pleases  and  charms,  h 
knows  how  to    beswear  and  spoil  the  fairest  objects,   over 
which  he  throws  a  sort  of  weird  tinge,- strangely  weird 
indeed,- but  somehow  made  altogether  unseemly  by  a  skill 
play  of  dubious  light  or  a  foul  daubing  of  the  brush.     He 
fastens,  in  a  fiendish  mood  of  wanton  waggery,  some  grotesque 
unreality  upon  what  is  real  comeliness,  poetic  beauty,  r< 
less  witchery  of  artless  nature. 

CABOO.- And  with  what  unspeakable  relish  he  thus  sulli 
what  is  most  immaculate,  most  bloomingly  attractive  and 
sweetly  bewitching. 

ABOO.- There  is,  (mind  well,  I  allude  to  the  author,  and 
not  to  the  man),  in  this  prolific  and  evil-eyed  Caricaturist,  - 
strikingly  harmonized,- something  of  the  wasp,  the  cate: 
pillar  and  Darwin's  typical  ape,  transformed  into  a  polichmel 
puppet;  he  stings  while  flying,  befouls  as  he  crawls,  and 
plays  wonderful  freaks,  plumes  himself,  pranks  up,  and 


—  14  — 

assumes  the  comically  -  grave  countenance  of  a  Grandissime 
Knight  of  the  Quill,  who  has  made  awful  revelations.  He  has 
discovered  Bras-  Coupe's  cabin  in  the  swamp,  and  all  the  hor- 
rors of  a  semi  -  barbarian  state  of  society. 

CABOO. —  Puffed  up  with  praise,  he  rises  like  a  balloon  to  a 

giddy  height  of  self  -  conceit  and  overweening  pride Shall 

I  slack  the  cable  until  we  lose  sight  of  the  exultant  aeronaut  ? 

ABOO. — Alas  !  how  easy  would  be, —  were  it  less  unworthy, 
—  a  retaliative  and  astounding  recrimination  !  It  might  be 
with  a  dagger  -  pen,  or  it  might  be  with  the  still  more  in - 
flictive  fouel  sanglant  of  indignation, —  the  indignation  of 
love  ! 

CABOO. —  Why  not  with  a  scalping  knife,  a  bloody  hatchet, 
or  any  other  savage  instrument  of  slow  and  ruthless  torture  ? 
You  are  getting  too  excited  and  indignant  at  what  hardly  de- 
serves our  serious  notice.  I  would  not  stoop  to  crush  the 
venom  -  swollen,  dust  -  covered  insect,  suddenly  brought  to 
light  by  his  interested  fellows  !  Let  the  conspicuous  ephe- 
meron  enjoy  its  glorious  sunshine. 

ABOO. —  But,  know  you  not,  that  the  smallest  insect  may 
kill  the  towering  pine  or  cedar  ;  that  a  spark  may  set  on  fire 
and  destroy  a  whole  forest ;  that  a  wicked  hoi/  may  poison  the 
purest  waters  ?  Jest  not ;  I  am  in  earnest, — terribly  in  earnest ! 
The  meekest  man  becomes  the  fiercest,  when  too  much  pro- 
voked by  impudence  and  audacity.  Only  for  a  moment,  lend 
me  your  attention  :  There  was  a  young  Greek  at  Athens  who 
used  to  walk  alone  in  the  streets,  as  if  abstracted  from  every- 
thing around  him.  The  whole  people  regarded  this  strange 
young  man  as  dove  -  like,  child  -  like,  girl  -  like  ;  he  appeared 
to  them  most  bland,  most  inoffensive  ;  he  always  had  upon 
his  ruddy  lips  the  sweetest  smile;  he  was  called  "the 
dreamer,''  and  so  called  by  every  jack  -  a  -  dandy  and  jack  -  a- 
napes  :  One  day,  all  on  a  sudden,  lie  broke  through  his  long 


-15  — 

silence  and  smiling  meekness  ;  lie  broke  savagely,  and  with 
such  a  wild  vehemence  that  he  startled  the  whole  city  !  It 
was  a  direful  burst  of  noble  indignation,  a  storm  of  vengeful 
ire, —  too  long  concentrated  ;  it  was  a  lava  -flood  of  volcanic 
eloquence;  it  was  lightning,  and  it  was  thunder, —  awe-striking 
and  terrifying  !  I  tell  you,  trust  not  the  dormant  sea, —  trust 
not  the  "dreamer  ":  Main  force,  master  power,  irresistible 
impetus,  lurks  beneath  the  silent  tranquillity  of  lovely  meek- 
ness :  Deep  calm  broods  stormy  mightiness.  I  tell  you,  those 
whom  you,  —  yes,  you,  practical  men,  workmen,  jobbers, — 
miscall  "dreamers,"  I  dare  call  "  the  unacknowledged  and 
unrewarded  RULERS  of  the  world."  The  upper  realm  belongs 
to  the  winged  birds  ;  the  nether  one  to  the  four  -  footed  spe- 
cies. Above,  the  winged  birds  soar  and  sing  ;  below,  the 
unwinged  quadrupeds  never  sing.  It  is  not  among  the  birds, 
—  aspiring  upward, —  that  you  will  find  the  unfledged  dwarf 
who  has  insulted  a  noble  po  ulation, —  high-bred,  high- 
minded  and  high-souled, —  noble,  and  proud  of  its  French 
and  Spanish  descent :  To  find  him,  look  downward  ! 

CABOO.  —  Kinsman,  you  are  becoming  fearful,  indeed,  and 
you  frighten  me. 

ABOO. —  What  would  you  feel,  -what  would  you  say,  were 
you  to  see  a  buzzard,  glutted  with  carrion,  lighting  heavily 
upon  a  consecrated  shrine  ?  Y.ou  would  shudder  and  recoil  ! 
What  would  yon  feel,  what  would  you  say,  were  you  to  be- 
hold a  jackal  disinter  a  cherished  .corpse,  drag  it  away,  tear 
it  to  pieces,  and  devour  its  lacerated  flesh  ?  You  would  stand 
mute  and  awe-struck.  Say,  then,  has  not  this  heartless  and 
grim-humoured  dwarf  done  something  like  the  foul  buzzard, 
has  he  not  done  something  like  the  hideous  jackal  ? 

CABOO. — Like  an  avalanche  coming  down  crashingly  from 
the  serene  and  snowy  height,  where  the  fell  eagle  reigns  in 
dreadful  loneliness,  your  wrathful  speech  falls  upon  me, — 
crusliingly  :  Be  more  calm,  my  kinsman. 


—  1C  — 

ABOO. —  O  ye,  silent  tombs,  hoary,  tile-roofed  buildings, 
mouldering  homes,  made  more  sacred  by  the  melancholy 
tinge  of  sweetest  souvenirs,  old  Creole  days,  blest  days  of  hon- 
esty and  hospitality,  beautiful  things  of  the  Past,  you  attract 
my  moistened  eyes  ;  you  appeal  to,  and  awaken,  the  deepest 
emotions  and  sympathies  in  my  enthusiastic  soul  ;  you  have 
for  me  the  soft  and  sad  eloquence  of  an  autumnal  twilight's 
lingering  adieu:  And,  he, —  the  over -bold,  the  flippant 
dwarf,  the  Magnissime  /Scr/6-bler  of  Charlemagne  Scrib-n&i', — 
has  attempted  to  touch  ; — and  touch,  only  to  profane  and  pol- 
lute !  He  has  invaded,  violated,  ransacked  and  riffled  even  the 
asylum  of  the  dead  ! 

CABOO. — Be  more  calm,  O  kinsman  mine. 

ABOO. —  O  ye,  Sisters  Three. —  TRUTH,  GOODNESS,  BEAUTY, 
— Three,  and  yet  One  ;  Sisters  enclaspt  by  Love  :  Fly  not  up 
to  Heaven,  whence  you  descended, — white-robed  and  lilly- 
crowned, — to  bless  with  your  smiles  and  to  charm  with  your 
songs  pilgrim-humanity  ;  tarry  yet  awhile  on  earth,  in  my  be- 
loved Louisiana,  that  the  Land  so  glowingly  depicted  by 
Chateaubriand,  France's  great  genius,  and  Longfellow,  OUR 
great  poet,  who  has  sung,  in  wild  homeric  strains,  of  the 
Sage  and  Hero,  Hiawatha  ;  tarry  yet  awhile,  that  the  Land  of 
my  childhood  and  the  Land  of  my  old  age  may  still  seem  to 
me,  as  of  yore,  a  paradise  on  earth,  giving  a  foretaste  of  the 
one  above  ! 

CABOO. — You  are  a  noble  son  !  you  are  a  great  patriot ! 
Would  that  I  were  like  you  !  —  Heed  not,  mind  not  what  this 
Mingolabee  has  written....  He  a  romancer  !  he  an  artist  !  he  a 
poet  !  Is  it  because  he  has  not  written  a  single  page  that  may 
elevate,  ennoble  and  benefit  men  and  society  ?  Is  it  for  this 
that  he  has  grown  so  famous?  He  has  genius,  yes,  he  has  ; 
but  it  is  the  genius  of  lust, —  lust  of  gain. 

ABOO. — Hotbed  fame  is   short-lived.      Shiny  mushrooms 


—  17  — 

spring  up  in  one  night  and  die  the  next  day....  But,  how  un- 
pleasant, will  some  one  say,  are  these  jarring  notes  which  I  oome 
to  throw  into  the  smooth  stream  of  such  a  sweet  concert  of 
praise  ;  unpleasant  ?  —  may  be  ;  yet  not  without  the  harmo- 
nious ring  of  truth. 

CABOO. —  Truth  may  wound,  but  it  wounds  to  heal. 

ABOO. —  Spider-like,  how  patiently,  how  industriously,  he 
spun  out  words  into  lines,  lines  into  pages,  pages  into  chap- 
ters, and  chapters  into  a  ponderous  volume  ;  and  how  proudly 
and  gleefully  he  looked  around, —  after  having  launched  his 
heavy-laden  paper-bark, —  to  see  how  her  elated  sails  had 
caught  the  wooing  breeze  of  publicity ....  Alas  !  alas  !  even 
New  Orleans,  the  "HYBRID  CITY,"  as  scornfully  called  by  him, 
joined  with  the  North  in  trumpeting  his  praise  and  strewing 
with  flowers  and  laurel  leaves  the  path  that  leads  to  fame  ; 
yes,  even  New  Orleans,  without  a  sense  of  honor,  without  a 
blush  of  shame  ! 

CABOO.  —  But  all  these  praises,  so  lavishly  bestowed  by  the 
Northern  press,  carry  a  sting  in  the  tail, —  the  sting  of  a  per- 
fidious cajoler  :  Beware  of  the  gift  of  such  a  Greek-like  donor  ! 
As  the  book  is  addressed  to  the  passions  of  the  hyperborean 
Readers,  the  hyperborean  Press  blindly  accepted  and  lauded 
it  as  a  chef-  d'ceuvre.  Some  critics  reviewed  it  without  having 
had  even  a  view  of  it ;  others  glanced  at  it,  turned  over  five 
or  six  pages,  cursorily  perused  them,  and  penned  hastily  a 
notice,  in  which  they  proclaimed  the  author  as  great  as  the 
great  Dickens.  All  were  in  perfect  unison  and  ENTENTE  COR- 
DIALE  to  extol  the  unextollable.  I  heard  that  a  hardy  little 
band  tried  to  read  it  through,  but  fell  asleep  after  having 
read  the  opiferous  leaves  of  the  first  chapter.  I  speak  not  of 
the  puffs,  profusely  given  to  it  by  generous  friends,  interested 
or  stipended  parties  ;  all  these  reclames  poured  in  like  a  sum- 
mer shower  on  the  dry  sand  ;  Charlemagne  Scribner  beat  the 


—  18  — 

drum,  blew  the  trumpet,  and  boomed  awfully, — and  conscien 
tiously  loo ;—  and  the  waves  of  the  two  oceans  caught  tin 
paean,  and  triumphantly  bore  it  afar,  to  unknown  and  deser 
regions  :  But  the  ablest  critics,  the  true  critics,  the  Grea 
Masters,  have  not  yet  spoken  ;  and,  when  they  do  speak,  it  wil 
be  to  give  a  telling  lesson,  and  a  condign  castigation  to  tin 
culprit  -  book. 

ABOO. — In  conclusion,  let  me  say  that,  throughout  this  fan 
ciful,  distressfully  dull,  sketchbook  of  "  Grandissimes," — tin 
Grandissimest  of  whom  is  the  author  himself, — there  is  ma 
lice  prepense,  deep-rooted  guilt.  It  is  an  unnatural,  Souther] 
growth,  a  bastard  sprout,  un  digne  pendant  de  ' '  Uncle  Tom' 
Cabin."  And  the  more  it  is  lauded  by  the  Northern  press 
and  thereby  made  popular, —  (so  have  I  heard  from  th 
lips  of  many,) — the  more  incriminated  it  stands  befor> 
the  Southern  Areopagus  of  stern  criticism.  Northern  sym 
pathy  and  applause,  are,  impliedly,  Southern  diffident 
and  condemnation.  Would  that  he  could  plead  in  hi 
favor,  as  an  excuse,  ignorance  or  imbecility ;  but  tin 
plea  is  inadmissible  :  Both  the  letter  and  spirit  of  his  bool 
betray  his  deliberate  and  cherished  design.  Nothing  of  th< 
kind  ever  survives,  to  be  handed  down  to  remote  posterity  am 
crowned  with  merited  glory.  Such  idle  sport  and  wild  mirtl 
of  ill-humor  and  treasonable  eccentricity  are  doomed  to  mer- 
ciless oblivion  or  blighting  reprobation 

CABOO. —  To  your  duties,  boys  !  —  The  cable  snaps  asunde: 
and  the  drifting  bark  of  papyrus  shall  soon  be  wrecked  01 
some  desert  shore,  —  there  to  lie  and  rot ! 

ABOO. — Let  her  lie  and  rot,  in  desolate  isolation  ! 

CABOO. — And  yet,  what  indiscriminate  praises  have  beer 
bestowed  upon  it !  Tell  me,  master  theorician,  is  it  not  easier 
much  easier,  for  a  cable,  or  a  camel, —  to  pass  thro  ugh  the  ey( 
of  a  needle  than  it  is  for  any  one  but  the  most  gullible  o: 


—  19  — 

gulls  to  ingurgitate  the  elephant  -  lies  of  this  Magnissime  Ca- 
ble's erratic  genius,  shooting, —  meteor  -  like,  —  across  the  bo- 
real firmament  and  diffusing  its  bleak  light  over  the  benight- 
ed region  occupied,  until  now,  by  semi-barbarians? Stand 

from  under,  O  ye  who  wish  not  to  understand  and  be  enlightened 
by  the  Great  Luminary  of  Cablishissime  civilization, — beau- 
tiful palingenesia,  heretofore  undreamed  of,  —  which  will  con- 
summate all  fusion  and  confusion, — malting  all  diverse  colors 
intermarry  and  blend  into  one  and  sole  mongrel  color, — sym- 
bolical of  highest  perfection, —  highest,  in  sooth,  if  highest 
means  lowest. 

ABOO. —  Behold,  the  new  meteor  is  as  dimly  luminous  as  it 
is  voluminously  apparent,  and  ponderously  voluminous. 

CABOO. — I  am  a  practical  man  ;  come  to  the  point  ;  put 
down  on  paper  what  you  have  said  to-day,  and  publish  it,  re- 
alize it. 

ABOO. — But,  kinsman,  am  I  not  too  acerb,  too  bitter,  too 
vehement  and  personal  ?  You  said  that  he  was  but  an  unfor- 
tunate pigmy-leaser. 

CABOO. — You  are  not,  believe  me.  You  have  not  assailed 
the  man,  the  private  individual ; — you  know  him  not.  You 
have  only  unmasked  and  denounced  the  author ,  the  public  man, 
the  unscrupulous  falsificator.  Say,  has  any  thing, —  local,  do- 
mestic, personal  or  social, — escaped  his  raillery  and  contam- 
ination ?  Whence  derives  he  this  privilege  of  insult  and 
ridicule  ?  He  has  exhausted  the  refined  vocabulary  of  blur- 
ring and  wounding  epithets.  Write  and  publish  at  once. 

ABOO.  —  But  I  have  smiled ....  I  am   disarmed ....  The 

ruffled  pen  falls  from    my  relenting  hand How  sweet 

it  is  to  smoke  the  calumet  of  peace,  well  stuffed  with  the 
red  willow's  almond  -  scented  rind,  and  to  muse,  in  trance- 
ful  delight,  on  all  that  is  true,  and  good,  and  beautiful, 


-20  — 

while  sings,  in  rapturous  strains  of  wild  harmony,  the  inirni 
table  mimic  of  the  Sunny  South  ! 

CABOO. — Master  theorician,  you  know,  I  am  not  a  dreamer 

I  am  a  practical  man  ;   I  deal   with  actual  facts And  yet 

who  does  not,  now  and  then,  long  for  some  hours  of  rest  ?. . . , 
How  refreshing  it  is  to  lie  down  on  a  soft,  aromatic  couch  o: 
grass,  and  to  listen  to  the  melodious  sough  of  the  waving 
pines, —  forgetful  of  journals,  magazines,  books,  brick  an 
mortar,  slate  and  stone, —  amidst  birds,  flowers  and  purling 
rills,  stealing  their  way  through  the  lonely,  peaceful  desert  !-- 
What  society  of  men  or  women  can  soothe  as  wild  naturt 
does?....O  master  theorician,  should  he, —  the  "poli^hec 
banditti", — retort;  —  he,  the  Gr.mdissimest  of  Grandis 
simes,—  ignore  thou  and  leave  unanswered  whatever  he 
write,  unless  he  writes  in  the  FRENCH,  as  you  have  done  ir 
the  ENGLISH,  patois  ;  he  can  do  it ;  he  is  a  polyglot,  a  many 
languaged  scholar,  a  poet-romancer, booming  like  a  surge  wit 
turgid  gloriousness  of  renown  :  Let  him  show  the  virgir 
gold  of  his  exhaustless  California. 

ABOO.  —  Rest  assured,  O  great  votary  to    the  actual,  that 
shall  follow   your   wise   advice,    unheeding  every  word  no 
written  by  him  in  the  beautiful  patois  of  Lamartine  and  Cha- 
teaubriand. 

CABOO. —  I  tell  you,  be  not  too  pin -cable;  for  this  impla- 
cable  Cable  might  work  evil,  and  work  it  cablishly  !  It  is  fearful 
to  think  of  all  the  mischief  a  snaky  -  minded,  morbidly -sav- 
age civilizer  might  concoct  in  mid  -  night  watches  and  gloomy 
solitude,  beneath  some  hoary,  moss  -  shrouded  cypress,  where 
screech  legions  of  frantic  owls,  —  not  far  from  Spanish  -  Fort ! 
—  There  are  evil -spirit  —  haunted  places  of  wild  inspira- 
tion !  — Beware  !  He  is  a  High  -Priest  of  Negro  -  Voadouism, 
and  you  know  what  Negro  -  Voudouism  means  ? 


—  21- 

ABOO. — But,  if  I  write  and  publish,  he  will  leap  on  me  like 
a  wounded  wild-cat. 

CABOO. —  Let  him  leap,  I  will  feather  him  with  my  brist- 
ling arrows. 

ABOO. — Be  not  too  savage  ;  think  of  his  mother,  if  mother 
he  have  ;  think  of  his  sister,  if  sister  there  be  ;  think  of .... 

CABOO.  —  While  writing  his  book,  has  he  thought  of 
any  one  of  us, —  feelingly  ?  I  tell  you,  write  and  publish . . .  Lo, 
he  has  already  bewildered  and  bewitched  almost  all  the  critics 

of  the  press  !  —  They   seem   to   have  lost  all  sense of  Es- 

tethics. — If  he  leaps  on  you,  though  he  be  backed  by  hell, 
and  lieWs  legions,  I  will  hail  -  stone  him  into  night's  dismal 
dungeon,  made  darker  by  clouds  of  moping  owls  and  bats, — 
most  fit  abode  for  one  who  has  hoisted  the  sooty  flag  of  Ache- 
ron ! .  . .  But,  hark,  meseems  I  hear  a  distant,  doleful  voice  ; 
it  is  the  voice  of  a  veteran  crocodile, — waxed  rueful, —  and 
shedding  tears, — abundant  tears, —  streaming  down  his  scaly 
cheeks ....  Beware  of  crocodilian  tears!  Many,  indeed,  have 
been  beguiled  by,  and  fallen  victims  to,  their  feint  humanity  ! 
Old  Sha,kespeare, —  the  all -knowing  and  multiform  genius, — 
knew  well  the  monstrous  hypocrite  !  He  is  the  great  Chef- 
Menteur  of  the  swamps  and  bayous  ;  and  our  Mingolabee  — 
Romanticist,—  must  have  studied  and  graduated  at  his  marsh- 
environed  Voudou  -  School  of  false  lore  and  mock  righteous- 
ness  But,  hark  !  again  I  hear  strange  voices, —  voices  of 

Bull  -  Frogs,  sounding  like  human  voices  ;  list  to  them,  kins- 
man mine  ;  they  are  singing  : 


—  22  — 
FIRST  CHORUS. 


EIGHT    BULL-FROGS. 


FIRST  BULL-FROG,  (treble).— Greet  Georgy,  greet  Georgy, 
greet  Georgy. 

SECOND  BULL-FROG,  (barytone). — Weep,  poor  Will ;  weep, 
poor  Will ;  weep,  poor  Will. 

THIRD  BULL-FROG,  (soprano).— Willy,  Willy;  Willy,  Willy; 
Willy,  Willy. 

FOURTH  BULL-FROG,  (mezzo  voce}. — Kable,  Keble  ;  Koble, 
Kooble ;  Kyble,  Koible. 

FIFTH  BULL-FROG,  (tenor). — He's  a  Novelist,  lie's  an  Artist, 
lie's  a  Poet. 

SIXTH  BULL-FROG,  (alto}.— He  is,  he  is,  lie  is. 

SEVENTH  BULL-FROG,  (counter  base). — All  the  Press  say  so, 
all  the  Press  say  so,  all  the  Press  say  so. 

LAST  AND  BIGGEST  BULL-FROG,  (fundamental  base). — Let 
us  cheer  him,  let  us  praise  him,  let  us  crown  him  :  He'll  be 
our  Singer,  he'll  be  our  Mingo,  he'll  be  our  Great  Chief. 

SECOND  CHORUS. 


INNUMERABLE,       SHRILL-VOICED,      GEEEN  -  JACKETED 
LITTLE   FROGS. 


All  hail  to  thee, 

All  hail,  all  hail, 

Grandissime,  Brahmin,  Mandarin,  Wancanous,  Georgy, 
Willy,  Tasimbo,  Mingolabee ; 

All  hail  to  thee, 

All  hail,  all  hail  ! 


WEIRD  SOLO 

—BY   A 

ZOMBI-FROG. 

(STRANGE,  VENTRILOQUOUS  VOICE.) 


Savan  Missid  Kabri, 
Ki  konin  tou  gri-gri, 
Prosh  kote'  For-Pagnol, 
Li  td  kouri  lekol 
Avek  vie  kokodri, 
Ki  td  in  Gran  Zombi  ; 
Kan  so\eil  td  koushd, 
Dan  ti  kouin  biyin  kashd, 
Li  td  sorti  bayou 
Pour  apprande  li  Voudou. 

Savan  Missie  Kabri, 
Ki  konin  tou  gri-gri, 
Sd  pa  krivin  pour  frime  ; 
Li  I'd  Id  "  Grandissime  "  ; 
Tou  moune  ape  parle 
Anho  liv  ki  li  fe  ; 
Sd  pa  piti  Missid, 
Sila  ki  yd  pdld 
Savan  Missie  Kabri, 
Ki  konin  tou  gri-gri. 

Kote  Bayou  Koshon, 
Ou  ganyin  plin  dijon, 
Li  td  dause  Kongo 
Avek  Mari  Lavo. 
In  soir,  yd  fe  gran  bal, 
Ye  iimin  plin  i'anal, 
Et  yd  marid  Kabri 
Avek  mamezel  Zizi ; 
Se  td  pli  bel  ne'gresse 
Te  ganyin  dan  lespesse. 

Prosh  kote  gran  dikane, 
Yd  bati  in  kabane  ; 
E  yd  fd  plin  piti, 
Ki  td  samble  zombi, 
Savan  Missie  Kabri, 
Li  konin  tou  gri-gri, 
Li  konin  tou  kishoze, 
E  li  santi  ddroze. 


—  24  — 

Alon  dans£  Kongo, 
Epi  crid,  bravo  ! 
Bravo  pour  Tasimbo  ! 
Bravo  !  bravo  pour  li, 
Savan  Missid  Kabri, 
Ki  konin  tou  gri-gri ; 
Se  pa  krivin  pour  frime  ; 
Li  fe  le  "  Grandissime." 

CABOO. — Now,  is  not  that  grand,  most  grand,  grander  than 
the  grandest  Opera-music  ? 

ABOO. — It  is  as  grand  as  "  The  Grandissimes. " 


(After  this  grand,— grandest  of  grand  musical  efforts,  grandest 
of  grand  lyrical  paeans,  which  had  been  achieved  by  the  Wararon 
and  Grenoui'de  choruses,  a  clap  of  thunder  was  heard....  All  the  bully 
Wararons  and  the  petty  Grenouilles, — quick  as  fright, — suddenly 
dived,— with  a  great  splash  of  water, — and  disappeared  beneath  the 
large-leaved  and  yellow  -  blossomed  nenuphars  of  their  native 
swamp, — heureux  d'etre  hors  de  danger  /....  A  small  cloud  was  then 
seen  in  the  direction  of  lake  Catherine  ;  it  grew  darker  and 
larger,  expanding  until  it  overshadowed  the  whole  sky  ;  the  breeze 
freshened  and  waxed  into  a  gale  ;  the  foaming  waves  of  the  angry 
lake  swelled  and  heaved,  bearing-  on  their  snow-like  crests  the 
weary  gulls,  whose  sinister  shrieks  boded  the  coming  storm  ;  rain 
poured  down,  as  if  earth  were  threatened  with  a  second  deluge  ; 
Aboo,  Caboo  and  the  stenographer  fled  for  a  shelter  to  the  nearest 
house  ;  and  there,  they  stood,  with  drenched  garments,  in  patient 
expectancy  :  And  behold,  clothed  in  spark-spangled  smoke,  with 
its  fearfully  warning  voice,  comes  rolling  the  stream-animated 
monster,  the  Promethean  creation  of  Fulton's  audacious  genius.... 
They  leap  into  the  returning  train....  They  are  gone....  And  all 
is  over. 

I  bid  you  farewell,  kind  and  impartial  Reader,  and  wish  you 
the  full  enjoyment  of  the  most  substantial  and  real  happiness,  while 
I  will  still  pursue. — dreaming  still, —  "  airy  nothings  "  and  "  ideal 
visions"  of  unrealisable  bliss, — unrealisable  because  space  is  too 
narrow  and  time  is  too  short  to  contain  what  is  INFINITE  and 
ETERNAL.  ) 


NOTICE  OF  THE  EDITOR. 


Whoever,  in  our  Great  Age  of  progress,  wishes  to 
speak  and  to  be  listened  to,  or  to  write  and  to  be  read  by 
the  many,  must  speak  in  a  vast  public  place,  or  write  in 
a  Daily  Journal.  Our  Age  has  not  time,  and  is  not  in  a 
mood,  to  take  up  a  huge  volume,  or  to  patiently  endure 
an  endless  speech,  heavily  delivered  by  a  fastidious 
scholar  :  Hence  the  necessity,  the  interest,  the  power, 
the  sway,  the  over-ruling  and  ever-active  influence  of 
the  Press.  What  Steam  accomplishes  in  the  physical 
order,  the  Press, —  thak/Stim-  ulating  engine,  —  achieves 
in  the  intellectual,  moral,  political,  and  even  poetical, 
order.  The  Journal,  and  the  Pamphlet,  its  immediate 
co-ad jutor,  may  work,  and  do  work,  daily,  wonders, — 
and  yet  wonders  that  are  not  wondered  at. —  Here  is  a 
Spicy  Pamphlet,  some  twenty-four  leaves  put  together,  — 
Journal-like, —  which  you  may  read,  as  you  read  a  Daily 
Paper  ;  and  yet, —  mark  ye, —  it  can  be  bought  for, — 
you  hardly  will  believe  it for  only  : 

25    CENTS. 


L 


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